


Early Greens the Grove

by NoirSongbird



Series: Child Ballads [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (one-sided Amélie/Gérard specifically), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fae, Ballad 19: King Orfeo, F/F, Fae & Fairies, Faerie Gérard is a Dick, Faerie Kidnapping, Healthy Polyamory, Kidnapping, Multi, One-Sided Relationship, Rescue, Summer King!Gérard, Winter Queen!Sombra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:03:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9415106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoirSongbird/pseuds/NoirSongbird
Summary: Emily, Lena, and Amélie are in a thoroughly happy relationship. They adore each other, and with Amélie the formal head of Blackwatch after Gabriel's death and subsequent resurrection and Lena Overwatch's premier fighter pilot, things are pretty great for them.Except Gérard, the Summer King of Faerie, has his eyes on Amélie, and when he spirits her away, it's up to Lena to save her - and Emily to make sure they both get home.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to the next part of the Ballad AU! This is the first in a portion of the series I like to call "femslash and faerie bulllshit" with rather a lot of affection. This particular fic is based off [King Orfeo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uYrsiDeVL3o). You can see what I have planned for the rest of the series [here!](http://noirsongbird.tumblr.com/post/153190784246/child-ballad-series)
> 
> As always, much love to the Overwatch Writer's Guild discord, without whom I would never be able to produce anything anymore <3

Lena was no stranger to nightmares, not really. Being married to a soldier meant she had learned to deal with  Amélie waking up in various states of distress, and that reaching out to comfort her was an almost instinctual action. So when Amélie’s screams woke her from a dead sleep, Lena immediately sat up and pulled her wife into her arms, stroking her hair and whispering gentle words of reassurance. Emily stirred shortly after, and there were quickly a second pair of arms around Amélie and a second voice whispering soothing words.

“I have you, love, you’re okay,” Lena said, “it’s safe, I promise.” 

“We’re right here,” Emily added, voice gentle.

Amélie let out a desperate little whimper as a full-body shudder wracked her. Lena pressed little kisses to her cheeks and her forehead, Emily to the back of her head and her hair, and they continued the stream of reassurance until Amélie’s shaking stilled and she pressed her face into Lena’s shoulder with nothing but a breathy, sad little whine. 

“You okay?” Emily asked.

“I am...not sure,” Amélie confessed. “I think...I do not think the dream I had was merely a dream.”

“How d’you mean, love?” Lena asked, frowning slightly. “What was it about?” She could see Emily over Amélie’s shoulder, frowning too.

She could accept that her wife might be right - after all, the lives of everyone in Overwatch had gotten significantly more  _ magical  _ recently. Gabriel’s strange resurrection was only the beginning of it, especially since Jesse had recently arrived back from Gibraltar with five bloody  _ dragons  _ in tow. 

“It felt like...a warning, of some kind.” Amélie said, quietly. “I dreamt that I was resting by the shore, and there was...a man. Strange, tall, too bright.” She shivered at the memory. “He said that he would find me, and he would take me away, that I would be his...Summer Queen.” She was silent for a moment, and then continued. “He called himself Gérard, the Summer King. And...his eyes. His eyes were so  _ strange -  _ a bright, bright green.”

That tripped upon a memory. Lena had been raised on faerie stories, and if she remembered her stories right - the real ones, the ones about the Fair Folk, not the “fairy tales” - green eyes were a  _ marker.  _ You didn’t look for wings, or anything like that; faeries weren’t half that obvious, most of the time. It was the eyes. The unearthly green eyes.

“You’re sure, bright green?” Lena asked. Amélie nodded.

“That’s...strange,” Emily said, and she looked around Amélie’s shoulder to catch Lena’s eye. Right - she’d probably been raised on a lot of the same stories.

“Do you know something?” Amélie asked, pressing just a little.

“I might, but I’m not sure - we’ll talk to the others in the morning, yeah? Maybe there’s something to be done.” Lena’s expression became fierce and determined. “I’m certainly not letting some magic tosser run off with my wife, King or not.” She let out a little giggle, trying to break the tension from her lover’s nightmare. “Even if you  _ do  _ deserve to be a queen.”

Amélie shivered again. “That’s really not funny,  _ cherie _ .”

“Well, Emily observed, “it is a little.” She pressed a kiss against the back of Amélie’s neck. “But for right now, just try to rest, all right? We’re here. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

“I am not sure I’ll be able to sleep,” Amélie admitted. “It was...unsettling.”

“Let us distract you?” Lena offered. Amélie took a long moment to consider the offered possibility, and then nodded.

“I would like that, yes,” she said, and Emily turned Amélie’s head a little, so she could lean around and capture her lips in a brief, gentle kiss. She sat up fully so Amélie could lean against her, while Lena peppered kisses down Amélie’s stomach as she moved to settle between her thighs. 

“We’ll take good care of you,” Emily promised, moving to gently ease Amélie’s legs open. 

“Don’t we always?” Lena asked, pressing a kiss to Amélie’s inner thigh, which drew a brief sigh from the other woman. She was already bare - all three of them were, a consequence of warm summer nights and sleeping three to a bed, which made it, really, the sensible thing to do. 

Emily’s hands moved to Amélie’s shoulders, a slow, warm massage designed to relax her, and Amélie sighed, leaning back into the redhead’s touch.

“You are both so good to me,” Amélie said, and Emily hummed. 

“You’re good to us,” she said, “it’s only fair that we return the favor.” Lena nodded from between Amélie’s thighs, where she was trailing delicate kisses, light on the sensitive skin, but with just enough pressure to make Amélie shiver. 

“You know you have the finest legs I’ve ever seen, Amé,” Lena said, and Amé flushed faintly.

“You are a flatterer, Lena Oxton,” she said, lightly.

“Only for women that deserve it, Amélie Oxton,” Lena replied, returning to kissing along her lover’s thighs.

Emily gently tilted Amélie’s head to the side, pressing light kisses to her neck and moving her hands lower, gently squeezing her breasts and drawing little soothing patterns over the skin of her stomach, until they rested at her hips. She dug her nails in, leaving marks that faded almost as soon as the pressure was gone, and then rubbed little circles into Amélie’s hips, then her thighs, pressing into the muscle there. 

“You’re so lovely, Amélie, we’re both so lucky to have you.” Emily praised. She glanced down at Lena, who had moved her kisses closer to Amélie’s folds, and Lena gave a brief, cheeky little grin, tongue darting out to slip between them. Amélie jolted, letting out a pleasured gasp. Lena looped her arms under Amélie’s thighs, bringing her legs onto her shoulders, and drew an eager lick along Amélie’s clit, a brief tease before she began to lap at her in earnest. Amélie groaned, head falling back on Emily’s shoulder, and Emily grinned, gently sinking her teeth into the junction between Amélie’s neck and shoulder.

“Ah,  _ yes, _ ” Amélie moaned, eyes fluttering closed, hips jerking upwards. “Yes,” she repeated, when Emily’s hands moved up to tease at her nipples. Emily hummed, continuing to kiss at Amélie’s neck, licking and nipping at places she knew were particularly sensitive.

“I love watching her go down on you, you know,” Emily murmured in Amélie’s ear. “It always looks  _ amazing,  _ and you sound  _ so good.”  _ Amélie shuddered, reaching over to grip Emily’s chin and hold her in place long enough to turn her head and capture Emily’s lips in a long, heated kiss. Her other hand went to Lena’s hair, twisting in the fluffy brown mess, and she tugged Lena against her, rolling her hips down to grind against her lover’s eager mouth. When she broke from the kiss, there was a thin trail of saliva between their lips, and Amélie licked it away with a teasing grin. 

“As I said,” she breathed, voice low and dark and sultry, “you are both  _ so very good to me. _ ” Her hand released Emily’s chin, sliding between them and dipping between Emily’s legs to tease at her wet folds, and then dipped between them to roll her clit in a way that had the redhead grinding into her hand.

“We love it,” Emily purred in response, leaning in for another kiss. She felt Amélie tense against her, hips jerking briefly as she climaxed, and pulled back, so she and Lena could both hear Amélie’s drawn-out moan as Lena worked her through her orgasm. Her grip on Lena’s hair slackened as she came down, and Lena sat back, a very self-satisfied grin on her face, and let Amélie’s legs slide off her shoulders..

“Can I get a kiss, too?” Lena asked, a little cheekily, and Amélie nodded, beckoning her over and slinging an arm around her waist. Their lips met for a long moment, and then Lena broke to steal a kiss from Emily, too. Amélie’s fingers were still working Emily, and she dipped two fingers into her. 

“God, I could watch this all night,” Lena admitted, eyes on Emily’s flushed face as the other woman let out desperate little gasps.

“Mm, yes, well,” Amélie purred, “you do not have to  _ watch,” _ she tugged Lena in closer, capturing her lips in another kiss, and moved her arm from around Lena’s waist to take one of Emily’s hands, sliding it between Lena’s thighs. That was all the encouragement Emily needed, and she began to work Lena until the brunette was shuddering and gasping with pleasure, face buried in Amélie’s shoulder.

“God, I love both of you so much,” Lena breathed, hands flailing for somewhere to rest and settling on Amélie’s hips.

“Love you too,” Emily gasped, “ah, Amélie, yes,  _ like that, yes,”  _ she was unrestrained in crying out her climax, and while Amélie worked her through her peak, she pinched Lena’s clit just hard enough to send the other woman tumbling over too with a loud cry of  _ “Emily!” _

Once the two of them had caught their breath, Amélie guided them both down onto the mattress, settling herself between her wives once again. 

_“Je vous aime toutes_ _les deux,”_ Amélie murmured, smiling fondly.

“Thought this was all about you,” Lena said, but she was grinning, still riding the post-orgasm afterglow high. 

“I enjoy seeing both of you pleased as much as I enjoy having you please me,” Amélie replied, smiling broadly. “So if it was about me...I got everything I wanted.”

“Feeling better?” Emily asked.

“I am,” Amélie replied. “I will feel best if the two of you lay with me,” it was a quiet request, but enough to have both emily and Lena snuggling up against her.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Emily promised. She began to stroke Amélie’s hair, a soft, comforting gesture. 

“Never,” Lena agreed. Amélie hummed pleasantly, and closed her eyes, and the other two watched her drift off.

 

* * *

With Amélie asleep between them, Lena carefully leaned over her to nudge Emily. The other woman sat partway up, and Lena gestured for quiet - best not to risk waking Amélie.

“Do you...really think what Amélie saw was some kind of vision?” Emily asked.

“Well,” Lena said, “dragons are real, yeah? I guess it’s not that far of a stretch that faeries are too.”

“But, I mean...the  _ Summer King,  _ come to kidnap  _ Amélie?  _ We’re nobody special, not really, why us? Why her?” Emily asked, sounding a little desperate.

“I dunno, love, but...if it is real, I’m not losing Amélie to some puffed up faerie bastard.” Lena said firmly. “We’ll talk to Jack and Gabe, and the Shimadas. If anybody’ll know how to deal with faerie shit, it’ll be the dragons, right?” 

“I suppose,” Emily said, settling back into bed and wrapping her arms around Amélie’s sleeping form. There was nothing to be done, in the middle of the night, except hold onto Amélie and comfort her if she woke afraid.

 

* * *

Telling the story the next day, to Jack, Ana, and Gabriel first because spreading it everywhere seemed like a bad idea, was the easy part. The hard part was watching the faces of people Lena respected, searching them for any sign of disbelief or dismissal. She didn’t want to hear that it was crazy or impossible, not when Amélie was still shaken even the next morning. She stood behind the other woman as Amélie recounted the story, and wished Emily could be there with them, but Emily had obligations - a civilian job, separate from Overwatch. 

Fortunately, dismissal was not what she heard.

“Amélie,” Jack said, frowning, “you’re absolutely certain?” Amélie nodded, and he sighed and sank into his chair.

“It’s not entirely unbelievable,” Ana offered.

“Nothing’s  _ that  _ unbelieveable anymore,” Jack said, casting a significant look over at Gabriel, who by all rights should have been dead. He had been back for a few months, now, and admittedly, part of Lena still wasn’t used to it. She hadn’t dealt with Gabe much - he was the Blackwatch Commander and Jack’s husband, and that was about it - but she’d respected him, and his death had hurt so many people, and it was...it was  _ bizarre  _ to have him up and walking around. 

“Do we have anything iron?” Gabriel asked, considering. “Do either of  _ you?  _ It’s supposed to...repel fairies, right?”

“Oui,” Amélie acknowledged, “Emily mentioned that this morning. We could not find anything - it is not a common household material, anymore.”

“Ask Reinhardt,” Ana offered. “He may have an old sword. Or try Hanzo,” the elder Shimada, the dragon, barely familiar to Lena because he was quiet and standoffish and seemed mostly content to keep to himself and his brother and Jesse, “I’m not sure what he uses for arrowheads, it might be iron.”

“We can ask,” Amélie agreed.

“If no one has anything, I’ll just stay with Amé, and if the Summer King  _ does  _ show up, I’ll make him regret even thinking about putting a hand on my girl,” Lena said, firmly, squeezing Amélie’s shoulders. Amélie gave her a grateful smile, reaching up to rest a hand over hers.

“I want to...thank you all,” she said. “For believing me, and for taking this seriously.”

“Yes, well,” Gabriel said, “I recently came back to life, and Jesse brought home a whole goddamn family of dragons from Nepal. At this point, treating ‘the King of the Faeries wants to kidnap one of our agents’ as a legitimate threat seems like the best option.”

“Still,” Amélie said, “thank you.”

“Be safe, Amé. I would hate to have to train another sniper.” Ana’s tone was teasing and her smile was genuine, but there was a crinkle at the edge of her eyes that belied her real concern. Amélie was Ana’s protege and Gabriel’s agent - had, in fact, run Blackwatch unofficially while he was dead. Of course both of them would take any threat to her seriously. Jack, Jack was just protective - particularly, Lena knew, of Lena herself. 

She never should have doubted that they would help, if they could. 

 

* * *

 

 

Finding Hanzo Shimada was easy enough, even if getting to him wasn’t - he’d chosen a perch high atop one of the Watchpoint’s towers, and if what Lena had heard about him living in a cave for god only knew how long was true, she supposed it made sense that he’d want to catch as much wind as possible. Amélie got them up there with her grappling hook, and though he initially seemed a bit startled, Hanzo greeted them with a polite nod, unfolding from his meditative sitting position.

Lena was pretty sure she was never going to get used to him and his brother, with their antlers and scales and  _ tails. _

“Agent Oxton, Agent...Oxton,” Hanzo greeted. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Well, actually, we had a bit of a...request. You wouldn’t happen to have any iron, would you? Pure iron, it’s gotta be.” Lena said. Hanzo frowned, but picked up his quiver from where it rested next to him, producing an arrow.

“Practice arrowheads are iron. Is...there a reason you need this?” He asked.

“It is a very long story,” Amélie said, and Hanzo gave a brief, conciliatory nod, offering it to her. 

“You can break off the head if you need a smaller talisman,” he said, “but that should do.”

“Thank you,” Amélie said.

“Of course,” Hanzo acknowledged. “I am glad to help.” He paused, for a moment, regarding the both of them, and the arrow Amélie was turning over between her fingers. “I do not wish to presume, but...as I understand, iron is used to repel what you call faeries.” He seemed almost -- uncomfortable, but Lena wasn’t sure if that was because of the subject matter or because...well. People. 

“That is what it is for, yes.” Amélie replied. Hanzo frowned.

“Well.” He pulled out a second arrow, and offered it to Lena, who accepted it. “Best to be as protected as possible.”

“Thanks, Hanzo,” Lena said, genuinely. Hanzo gave a brief nod, and bowed. 

“Of course, Agents Oxton. If I may be of further assistance, you only need ask.”

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, there was no amount of iron that would save them.

Lena snapped her arrowhead off the shaft and tucked it into a pocket, but Amélie insisted on holding onto the entire thing - with the intent, Lena assumed, of returning it to Hanzo when the danger had passed. 

Neither of them had any assignments, so Lena brought Amélie to a little cliffside picnic area that had been set up under a little group of trees by agents long ago and never disturbed. It made a perfect place to eat lunch and stare out at the sea and quietly enjoy each other's’ company.

It was unfortunate that it would not last.

They were packing up and walking away, and Lena had suggested a little friendly competition in the sim room - effectively lazer tag with a sniper rifle, but that was the fun of it, because Lena was quick and acrobatic on her feet, as maneuverable on the ground, she liked to think, as she was in the cockpit of a fighter jet. 

A speck of dust caught her attention, her eyes following it as it lazily traced a path through the air - before abruptly coming to a stop under a patch of sunlight. Lena blinked as it slowly started to vibrate, picking up speed till it was indistinguishable from the background. Now focusing on the shaft of sunlight, Lena couldn't help but let out a gasp; the light began to  _ ripple,  _ and then to pull apart, and Amélie placed herself between Lena and whatever this strange phenomenon was. She gripped her arrow like a knife, as if she intended to wield it as a weapon against the very  _ air  _ \- and honestly, Lena would not put that past her.

There was a burst of warm summer breeze, and Lena swore she heard birdsong, and then the ripple in the air resolved into a man.

He was tall, with dark hair styled into something like a relaxed mohawk, rich bronzed skin, and bright,  _ unearthly  _ green eyes, and dressed in a draping robe with a long, trailing cloak, in warm green embroidered with gold. Perched atop his head was a crown of flowers, and he took a step towards Amélie, who was frozen, with wide, panicked eyes.

“Hello, my darling,” he said, and Lena snarled, hackles immediately up. He - the Summer King, he  _ had _ to be, the one that had come to Amélie in her nightmares - completely ignored her, walking to Amélie and wrapping an arm around her waist.

As soon as he touched her, it seemed to wake her up, and she narrowed her eyes, twisted the arrow around, and stabbed it into his side.

He seemed unfazed, merely sighing and reaching down, pulling it out.

“Is that iron? Very clever,” he said, “but unfortunately for you, it will take a bit more than that to stop me,” and then he let out a sigh and began to fade away, back into the light from which he had come, taking Amélie with him.

“Wait, no!” Lena said, at the same time Amélie declared “ _ let go of me!” _

Lena reached for Amélie, Amélie reached back, and their hands met for a moment - but it was a moment long enough.

Lena felt a strange, terrible lurching, and then she felt nothing at all.

 

* * *

 

When she woke, briefly, she felt like she was floating, tugged in a hundred different directions, and Amélie’s fingers had slipped from her grip. She was alone, and it was dark, and all there was to do was close her eyes.

 

* * *

 

When she woke the second time, she was laying in a soft bed of grass, softer than any she had ever known. She wasn’t sure that was entirely a fair thing to compare; it wasn’t as if she had been in the practice of testing the softness of grass.

Slowly, she sat up, blinking and trying to orient herself. She was, from the look of it, in a vast and empty meadow - grass and wildflowers in every direction, and nothing at all to orient her.

She was also alone.

It made some small part of her want to curl up and cry, because she had  _ failed.  _ She had lost Amélie - and, in the process, gotten lost herself.

Which meant Emily was alone.

She wondered if Overwatch had realized she and Amélie were missing yet, and then immediately stopped wondering, because there was no way they  _ didn’t.  _ Jack and Gabe and Ana would never just let them vanish; they’d be looking.

Lena wondered if they’d left anything behind. The arrow Amélie had tried to stab Gérard with, maybe -  _ god,  _ she was so proud of her girl for that _. _

She reached into her pocket, and her fingers curled around the arrowhead still there.

She felt a lurch, and suddenly she wasn’t in the strange, empty meadow anymore, she was...she was in Winston’s lab, in Gibraltar, but everything seemed  _ off,  _ like she was seeing it through slightly rippled glass, or from the bottom of a very clear pool.

There was Winston, and a very concerned-looking Jack, and the Shimada brothers (Hanzo was holding the arrow, the one Amélie had used, she just... _ knew _ it was the one, somehow, and he looked so terribly sad).

And Emily.

“Emily!” Lena said, but it felt like talking through a pillow, and no one turned.  _ “Emily!” _

The second time, she yelled it, and  _ that _ worked. Everyone in the room turned, but she only had eyes for one person.

Emily was staring at her with wide, stunned eyes, and slowly, she took a few steps forward. It was slow going, but Kena pushed her way against a force that was pulling her back, and they met, and when their fingers brushed, Lena felt whatever was holding her let go, at least for the moment.

“Lena,” Emily’s eyes were full of tears, and she flung her arms around her, pulling her close.

“Em,” Lena buried her face in the redhead’s shoulder, clinging to her as tight as she could. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hang onto Amélie, I don’t know where she is - I don’t even know where  _ I  _ am.”

“You’re here. With me. God, Lena, it’s been  _ days,  _ we were afraid--” Emily let out a hitched little sob. “I thought I’d lost you both.”

“Days?” Lena asked, eyes wide. “But - I was only - it barely felt like an  _ hour,”  _ she said.

“Time distortion,” Hanzo spoke up, but his voice was soft, like he was reluctant to interrupt. “You may be in Faerie - and time passes differently there.”

“Oh,” Lena said, very quietly. “I...I can’t stay,” she admitted. Emily sniffed.

“I understand,” she said, and she let go, and Lena felt herself begin to fade. “You’re the one with the best chance to find Amé.” She reached up to lay a hand on Lena’s cheek, and the tears rolling down hers felt like a knife in the pilot’s chest. “Bring her home. Bring  _ you _ home. Come back to me.”

“I will,” Lena said, “I promise.”

 

* * *

 

When she opened her eyes again, Lena was back in the meadow, but it was no longer an endless void.

She could see, in the distance, four paths.

Four paths, four Courts of the Fae.

It was half guess, half instinct, that she chose the second one - assuming the year started in the Spring, and they went in some kind of Order, that should be Summer.

She hoped.

Whichever it was, though, she was certain she would find her way, and she would do exactly as she’d promised Emily. She would bring Amélie home.

 

* * *

 

The loneliness was the worst part.

Every day, Emily woke up, and for one crystal moment she forgot. Forgot that Lena and Amélie were gone, and that she was alone. 

And then it all came crashing back.

There were days where she didn’t want to move, because the weight of what she had lost was just too much. On those days, she’d grab something of Amélie’s and something of Lena’s and wear them with her to Winston’s lab, where she was knee deep in the search to bring Amélie and Lena home. Engineering was her specialty, but folklore was a lifelong interest - and combining the two of them was exactly what this particular problem required. They had to make something to pull Lena - and, hopefully, Amélie, when Lena found her - completely out of Faerie, and the only way to do that was with a little science and a little magic.

It was Lena’s little visits - days, weeks apart, but still  _ happening  _ \- that kept Emily going. Every time Lena pushed through from Faerie, they had a few moments to talk, and it gave hope to everyone on the project. When Lena could push through, she was chatty and glad to see them, and somehow,  _ somehow,  _ no matter how long she was trapped, and no matter how little she found - because as best Emily could tell, from what little Lena was willing to say, she was just  _ wandering  _ \- she managed to hold onto her endless optimism. 

The project was a rotating cast of fascinating people - Winston was always there, and Hanzo Shimada was fairly consistent, which was good because he had a surprising breadth and depth of knowledge of the Faerie. He was cagey about his sources, but he was cagey about a lot of things, and Jesse trusted him - and Emily trusted Jesse. Satya Shimada, the Architech, was fairly involved; she seemed to be enjoying the challenge, and frankly, if it weren’t her lovers, Emily probably would have been too. Satya’s hard light allowed for them to create and test all sorts of different possibilities, assembling them in an instant and disassembling them as soon as they were shown not to work. 

It would have been an incredible project to be on - the highlight of her engineering career - except that it was all a desperate attempt to pull the two women she loved out of the hands of a mad, inhuman King.

All she could do was hope that they succeeded.

 

* * *

Lena wasn’t sure how long she wandered down the winding, green path alone, following the blooming flowers and the brightening trees, but from her flashes back to Gibraltar, she knew that for them, it was a very, very long time. Here, the sun never really seemed to set, and there were few other ways of telling time - except that sometimes she felt tired enough to sleep. 

It was endless, and lonely, and it went on and on.

Until it didn’t.

She had slept, again, for what felt to her like no more than a few fitful hours before she was stirred awake by a soft, gentle female voice.

“My, my - you look terribly lost.”

She stirred, slowly, opening her eyes, and blinked.

The woman who had found her was dressed in colors that immediately put Lena in mind of the sky at dawn. 

Her boots were some lustrous golden material decorated with glossy black inlay, blending into hose in such a deep purple that it was nearly black. She wore a golden tunic with a fringed skirt that dipped into oranges and reds, and a tabard draped over her shoulders that gradually shaded from a brilliant red down to a deep crimson as it fell towards the ground, with golden filigree chasing its border. 

Her hair was such a pale blonde that it nearly appeared white, gathered up with one long bang fallng over her eyes, and the rest in a ponytail resting high at the back of her head, with skin so perfectly clear it almost appeared to be cast porcelain, and eyes that shined a brilliant aqua green. 

Of course all of that paled in comparison to her most obvious feature - a massive pair of  _ wings _ that rose from her back with a radiant glow, as if the feathers were made from sunlight itself. 

“...Are you an angel?” Lena found herself asking, a little stupidly. The woman blinked, and then laughed, shaking her head.

“No, not quite,” she said, “though my name  _ is  _ Angela.” Ah, that, Lena supposed, would be why she found it so funny. “Angela, of the Summer Court of Faerie. And you seem to be a very, very lost mortal.” she tilted her head to the side, and then lit up. “How  _ fascinating!  _ A mortal,  _ here!  _ Goodness, we never see your sort, except for that woman the king brought back not too long ago.”

“I’m looking for her,” Lena said, sitting up and then pushing herself off the ground. “She’s my wife, and I need to bring her home.”

“Your - oh, goodness. That  _ is  _ unfortunate. And quite rude of Gérard.” Angela crossed one arm across her chest, resting the opposite elbow in her palm and tapping a finger against the corner of her mouth. “That must be why he went to such lengths to keep her, if there were people waiting outside of Faerie.”

“There are. There’s me, and Em - and we love her, and we want her to come home.” Lena said. “Please. I’ve been wandering since she was taken, trying to find her. I...I just want Amélie back.”

Angela seemed to consider, for a long moment, and her wings folded in as she thought, fluttering slightly behind her.

“I should simply deliver you back to the mortal world. Gérard would be…. _ furious,  _ if he discovered us. And you certainly can’t intend to just swoop in and scoop her out.” Angela said. “Going to recover her will be immeasurably dangerous.”

“I don’t care,” Lena said. “Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. I just want Amélie home and safe.”

“Just so you’re entirely clear, I have seen Gérard turn someone who irritated him into spiders.” Angela said. “A volume of spiders equivalent to their previous size. It was….quite a lot of spiders.”

“ _ I’m not afraid,” _ Lena said, again.

Angela locked eyes with her for a long moment, and then let out a little “ _ well!” _

“If you are determined, come with me.” Angela extended a hand, and Lena took it, and suddenly they stood before a pair of great golden gates, woven with flowers and vines. “The Summer Court is through here; I’ll guide you to it. When you get in - try to  _ impress  _ him. If you have any clever skills, put those to use.” Lena nodded. She had a few ideas, already. “If you impress him, he will offer you a reward - and usually, he’s  _ very  _ magnanimous. Ask him to give her back. If you don’t…”

“Spiders?” Lena offered. Angela grimaced.

“Spiders.” She nodded. Lena turned to face the gate, and Angela pushed it open, and there they were.

 

* * *

 

The Summer Court was not, in any way, what Lena had been expecting. She wasn’t sure what she  _ was  _ expecting, though she’d conjured up some images as Angela carefully guided her through the hedge maze behind the gates. 

It looked like a park, except it was the most beautiful botanical park in the world. Every inch of everything was covered in growing things - flowers and vines and plants, some of which she recognized but many of which she had no name for. A light breeze blew through, and the temperature rested at “perfectly comfortable,” which shouldn’t have surprised her.

The entire place was filled with people - unearthly beautiful people, all with the same bright, intense green eyes. They were lounging and talking and laughing, and there was even a string quartet playing soft, graceful music.

Lena tilted her head, listened, and almost laughed.

Antonio Vivaldi.  _ Summer.  _ Almost too typical.

She recognized Gérard instantly, and she would have known even if she hadn’t, because he was perched on an elegant divan made of tree branches, crawling with flowers and covered in moss.

Amélie lay across his lap, seemingly asleep, and it took every bit of willpower Lena had not to rush over and deck him, because he was  _ stroking her hair,  _ the way one might fondly stroke the fur of a beloved pet. She wanted to rip his hand off, to break every one of his fingers, but she forced her fists to unclench and a polite smile back across his face.

Gérard noticed them quickly, and he sat partway up, a half-smile on his face. It was obvious he didn’t recognize Lena; his eyes skipped right over her, and when he did regard her, it was only with amused interest, not any sign of recognition at all. 

But then, she supposed, why would he? Lena doubted either she or Emily had even registered as blips on the King’s radar when he decided he wanted Amélie for her own.

“Angela!” He waved her over, and Angela went. “Where did you find this  _ charming  _ little mortal?” 

That just confirmed it for her. He had no idea who she was, clearly - which was just fine by her.

“Wandering by the gates,” Angela replied, sitting on the arm of the divan, an indulgent smile on her face. “She’s quite the acrobat, actually. I thought it might provide you with some amusement to watch her before we shuffled her home.”

“Well!” Gérard clapped. “That  _ does  _ sound delightful. So, mortal, will you perform for the Summer Court?” 

“I’d be honored to.” Lena bowed, and she could hear tittering and whispers around her, as every pair of those unearthly green eyes turned to her, watching. “Is there any chance I could get a little music? If that’s not too much to ask, Your Majesty.”

Gérard laughed. 

“Nothing is too much, here.” He gave a wave of his hand to the string quartet, and they began to play something different - she couldn’t quite name the piece, but she knew the rhythm. A tango, or something like it, entirely in strings. The sort of dance she might...actually kind of expect out of the Summer Court.

She hadn’t performed in a long while, but she did a lot of gymnastics practice to keep up her physique, and it felt almost  _ natural  _ to fall back into the bouncing, tumbling, spinning routines that had consumed her life as a child. The soft ground of the Summer Court’s field wasn’t a gymnastics mat, and there was nothing to save her, really, if she fell, but she  _ couldn’t  _ fall because she had to impress this bastard of a king and his Court.

She opened with a step sequence, and as she moved to the beat she was given, she watched as a wider area was cleared for her performance. Once she’d hit what she considered a decent “corner,” she launched into a double back handspring that she pulled into a double twist and a flip on a third bounce, landing perfectly on her feet. Gérard let out a startled clap, and she cast him a brief smile, taking two steps and a split leap to carry her to the opposite “corner” of the mat she had drawn in her mind.

It was almost instinct to stay in the bounds of the mat she had created for herself, and the crowd at the edges kept her there too. She did a quick set of steps that carried her to the center, and then hit the ground, a show of flexibility, kicks and twists back to her feet, and then it was off again, a cartwheel to the edge and another long tumbling pass down the center. This time it was a front handspring into an aerial cartwheel into a triple twist, which she landed perfectly on her toes. 

It was  _ exhausting,  _ were she being honest, but of course it was. It was ballet and acrobatics all in one, floor gymnastics, and from the way Gérard was staring, she was impressing him.

She ought to be, she was fairly certain this was a championship routine, if she’d been on Earth.

She did a final step sequence, picturing Amélie’s graceful ballet steps as she did, and then one last tumbling pass, a double handspring into an aerial somersault that she landed on her toes, facing Gérard, and once she hit the landing, she sank to her knees, bowing before the King of the Summer Court.

“If it pleases Your Majesty,” she said.

There was a moment of silence, and then --  _ applause.  _

Not just from Gérard, either, from everyone watching. Lena grinned genuinely, then, especially when Gérard stood up and walked over to her.

“My, my, you  _ are  _ talented,” he said, “stand! Up, up,” she did, and as soon as she was up, he slung an arm around her shoulders and then he leaned against her, gesturing broadly. “Never let it be said that I am an unfair King - a performance like that deserves compensation!”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Lena demurred, falsely, “performing for Your Majesty was such an honor, anyway.”

“No, no, anything you desire, it will be yours, just ask!” He said, gesturing broadly.

Lena pretended to think for a long moment, and then she nodded to Amélie’s sleeping form.

“What about her? Could I take her home with me?” She asked.

Gérard jumped away from her as if burnt.

“That I cannot do,” he said, shaking his head. “She is perfect, ethereal, lovely - you are but a  _ mortal,  _ and she deserves to be a  _ Queen.” _

“That may be, sir,” Lena said, crossing her arms, “but you said  _ anything,  _ and that’s what I desire.”

“I cannot. Choose something else.” Gérard said, firmly. Lena squared her shoulders, fully prepared to fight him for Amélie. She was taking her girl home, damn it, and no fool faerie was going to stop her, no matter how powerful he claimed to be.

All of a sudden, a shiver ran through Lena, and she watched as every head in the place turned.

A woman had materialized by Gérard’s divan throne, in a shower of snow. She was ethereally lovely, with dark skin and long hair, shaved on one side and pulled into a blue-and-white braid. Her eyes - as unearthly green as all the fae - held a hint of laughter, and two swipes of bright blue paint, or tattoo ink, or - Lena couldn’t quite identify it - directly underneath drew attention to them. As she walked, her long white dress with its shimmering blue train trailed behind her, and her footsteps left a trail of frost.

In one hand, covered by a glove that hid her palm but bared her fingers, was --

Was a  _ human heart,  _ beating a resting rhythm.

Lena felt a spike of fear.

“Come on, Gérard,” she tutted, “you made a  _ promise.  _ You know what happens when we go back on our word.” She strode over to Amélie, and Gérard lunged for her, but she raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks. “So let the girl have her wife back, like you promised.”

“I will  _ not,”  _ Gérard snarled, grinding his teeth together. “She is  _ mine.  _ Just because you are Winter’s Queen, Sombra, you imagine you can come and lecture  _ me  _ on the importance of  _ bargains -” _

The woman - Sombra, the Winter Queen, a faerie as powerful as Gérard - let out a long and gusty sigh.

“Don’t let him try to bully you,” she said, winking at Lena, “he made you a promise. We can’t weasel out. It’s terribly foul to try.” She bounced the heart in her palm. “And I bet even if he had conceded, he wouldn’t have told you he took your girl’s heart to bind her to him. I’m sure you can guess that’s important.” She held it up, and Lena stared in horror.

That was  _ Amélie’s heart. _

The hand that was holding the heart reached into Amélie’s chest -  _ into  _ it, past skin and muscle and bone - and when it withdrew, the heart was gone.

Amélie’s entire body shivered, and then she stilled again.

“Now,” Sombra said, scooping Amélie up, “you’re going to fulfill your promise and let them go. In fact, I’m going to walk them out.” She passed Amélie to Lena, who cradled her sleeping wife against her chest, and then put a hand firmly on Lena’s shoulder.

In a shower of snow, they were gone.

 

* * *

 

When they reappeared, they were back in the meadow where Lena first woke up. 

“This is a waypoint,” Sombra said, “a...liminal space.”

“I woke up here when I was first pulled through,” Lena said.

“Most mortals who trip into Faerie start here,” Sombra said. She reached out to pat Lena’s cheek, and then slipped a hand into her pocket, producing the arrowhead Lena had been using to force herself back and forth. “Your friends back home will have to help you, but I think they can do it. They’re looking for you now, in fact.” She began to fade away, snow swirling up from her feet.

“Wait!” Lena said, and the swirl of snow stopped. Sombra tilted her head and gestured broadly, as if to say  _ go on.  _ “Why did you help me?”

“Because you, and your girls, and your friends, are  _ so  _ much more important than you know,” Sombra said, and then she gave a broad wink, dropping the arrowhead into Lena’s hand. “Tell Hanzo and Zenyatta I said hello.  _ Adios,  _ Lena Oxton!” She wiggled her fingers in a wave, and then she was gone.

Lena curled her fingers around the arrowhead, and let it carry her and Amélie home.

 

* * *

 

There was nothing to time Lena’s appearances, really; Emily had gotten well and used to that.

Still, it had been a painfully long stretch without one, and she was beginning to worry. What if something terrible had happened? God only knew what kind of dangers existed in Faerie - and Lena would have run headfirst into all of them, if she thought she might get a little closer to saving Amélie. Emily loved that about her, she did - loved that she was brave and fierce and noble.

It also scared her.

It had been almost a month since her last little visit - fourteen months total since the Summer King took Amélie and Lena was pulled in after her. They knew iron was the secret, because Lena had explained that touching the arrowhead she’d held onto was what shot her across the veil, but a more permanent solution escaped them all.

She was drawn away from a half-finished design of a containment chamber by a rippling in the air - the sort of thing that usually signalled one of Lena’s appearances. 

“Winston! I think she’s pushing through!” Emily yelled, drawing the gorilla scientist’s attention. Zenyatta, who had shown up to offer moral support and deliver coffee - he was a helper, Emily had discovered, and she was inordinately fond of the omnic monk - sat up as well, and clapped when the ripple resolved.

Because it wasn’t just Lena.

Amélie was asleep in her arms.

Emily flew forward and threw her arms around them both. They were a little faded and a little ripply, the way Lena always was when she pushed through, but they were solid enough in her arms.

“You did it,” she said. “I knew you would, I knew you’d both come back to me, and look at you.  _ You did it. _ ”

“I promised, didn’t I?” Lena said, smiling. “But I think I need some help to stay.” 

“We’ve been working on an iron containment chamber, but it’s not ready - not yet,” Winston said. Emily frowned. It seemed they were out of time for ideas, because who knew what would happen if Lena was ripped away again?

“Iron…” Zenyatta mused aloud, and then he brought up a hand and clonked himself on the forehead. “Of course! I should have thought of this sooner!” He pulled one of the orbs out of the ring around his neck and floated over, offering it to Lena. “These are forged from  _ thokcha.  _ Meteoric iron. Their spiritual resonance aids me in creating my orbs.”

“ _ Meteoric  _ iron,” Emily breathed. “Of course - it’s supposed to be particularly magically powerful. I should have thought to ask you, Zenyatta, I’m an idiot too.”

“This is...a little outside my expertise,” Winston admitted, “but it’s worth a try.”

“ _ Anything’s  _ worth a try,” Lena said, and Emily let her go, taking a few steps back. Lena shifted her grip on Amélie to a one-handed hold, reaching out and grabbing the orb.

There was a rush of power, and a bright flash - Emily turned away and shielded her eyes.

“Oh,” Lena said, quietly, and Emily turned back - and there she was, solid and real, no longer looking like she was half-in their world and half-out. 

Amélie was still in her arms, but she was...different, and that sent a thrill of nerves through Emily. Her skin had washed out to a pale blue, and her hair was no longer its normal lustrous black - instead, it was a deep violet.

When she opened her eyes, they were bright gold, but it was Amélie’s  _ voice.  _

“Lena?” She asked, first, and then she looked around.  _ “Emily?” _ Her face broke into a smile, and it didn’t matter that she was changed, because she was  _ home. _ Lena set her down, and Emily rushed back over, and all three of them clung to each other in a crushing, desperate embrace. “I knew you would come. I knew he would not keep me forever.”

“Of course, love,” Lena said. “We weren’t gonna let you go that easily.”

Emily had a thousand questions, about what had happened and why, about what they had seen and where they had been. All of that could wait.

Her girls were  _ home. _

 

* * *

 

 

Gérard fumed. Being shown up by Sombra and losing his chosen mortal bride  _ in the same hour  _ was not, on the whole, doing good things for his temper.

“ _ You,” _ he snarled, whirling on Angela, “you helped that little mortal sneak in here -  _ you  _ are the reason my bride has been taken from me.”

“I didn’t realize -” Angela began.

“ _ Do not lie to me!” _ Gérard snapped. “I know what you have done, Angela. You have disgraced the Court, and stolen from me. Out.  _ Out.  _ I banish you from Faerie, and let that stand as a  _ warning _ if any of the  _ rest  _ of you,” his eyes swept over the Court, and its members, many of whom cowered in fear, “get any  _ ideas.” _

He waved a hand, and Angela vanished.

She awoke in another place - in another  _ space,  _ a strange, empty building. A  _ mortal  _ building - she knew as soon as she saw the old, dusty banks of those silly objects mortals called  _ computers. _

On the wall was a logo - a familiar silver-and-yellow one, a circle and lines -- it had been on that mortal’s jacket, the one she had foolishly helped. 

One moment of pity, and look where it got her.

Angela buried her face in her hands and wept, bitterly.

“Ah,  _ querida,  _ don’t you look terribly sad?”

Sombra’s voice echoed all around her, and she tensed, lifting her head up and looking around.

“What do you want, Winter Queen?” she said, voice sharp and full of bravado she did not feel.

“I want to help you,” Sombra said, and she flickered into being in front of Angela, reaching down and gently taking the woman’s chin in her hand. “I can ease your suffering. Help you sleep, until someone comes to visit you. Gérard bound you to this place in his anger, and mortals will come, seeking what’s here. When they come, test them - test them as we Fae do, because eventually, there will be someone who passes, and who frees you.”

“And...you can make the waiting easier?” Angela asked, softly.

“Of course I can.” Sombra replied.

“Then please,” Angela said, “help me.”

 

 


End file.
